Viewed in Parallax: The 162nd Hunger Games
by OfficialBengy
Summary: Parallax: noun. The effect whereby the position or direction of an object appears to differ when viewed from different positions. {ON HIATUS}
1. Prologue

**Iolani Lavonne, 23, Capitol**

To say Iolani was excited would be an understatement. _Click click_ went two pairs of heels as she and Melisende left the studio together for their lunch break, beaming widely as she pushed a button on the elevator for the top floor cafe.

"You're a natural, Io," the older woman smiled as they entered the glass box and began to ascend. "Dorian prepared you well."

"He sure did!" Iolani burst, brimming with anticipation. The Reapings would be tomorrow, and with them the first batch of twenty-four teenagers she would interview as Host. She hoped Dorian, her mentor and the last Host, would be proud of her. He'd put an awful lot of faith in the girl who'd knocked homeless on his apartment door asking to become his intern.

The elevator rose rapidly, and as the doors opened the refined Announcer, with her steely blue curls and striking burgundy eyes led the way out, Iolani catching up with a huff. Even with heels on, she was almost a foot shorter than the towering Melisende Omnius. They settled down at a table on the balcony overlooking the City Circle, an Avox waiter bringing them coffee and cake. The skies were clear and the sunshine was warm on the skin of the two women. Below them, the road towards the President's mansion was being prepared by dozens of workers for the Parade tomorrow evening, fully visible from their vantage point.

Melisende ignored the Avox as he set down two cups and a slice each of her and Io's favourites- coffee and walnut for Melisende and vanilla with summer fruits for Io- and she sighed relaxedly.

"The TV appearances and press interviews are already exhausting, don't you agree?" She muttered.

Iolani sipped her Americano and opened her journal, skimming her notes, before answering, "I like the attention."

The Announcer groaned. "When you do this job for upwards of ten years, you'll learn."

"I don't think I'll ever get sick of meeting old Victors," Iolani said cheerfully, thinking towards the last of the mentor interviews they'd be conducting after this break. "Or new ones, for that matter!"

Melisende smiled as she put a forkful of cake in her mouth. "Meeting all of the wonderful Victors _is_ something to revel in for sure. And without Dorian holding you back, you can really shine and be yourself. I can only hope we get a good batch this year, and that Astraea has concocted something special for the Arena."

Oh, yeah, Astraea. Flipping through her schedule to remind herself of what she was going to have to do for the rest of the day, Io remembered the most important person on the Games team. This was their fifth year of being Head Gamemaker, and under their watch, they had led the construction of multiple unique Arenas; their history of being the Head of Technology before their promotion certainly had something to do with that. She picked up her cup and took a sip. The few times a year Iolani had met them they'd had this air of threatening calculation, disguised with soft smiles and a dainty disposition. Their strong friendship with the menacing President Karnak certainly didn't help in making Iolani feel safer around them.

"I'm sure they'll pull something unusual out of the bag," Io muttered as she set down her coffee. She began on her slice of cake, looking up from her notebook to stare at Melisende's face. "And even if the Tributes aren't too great this year, I'll be able to dig into them enough to _make them_ interesting." She said with a smirk. She had to be confident; the time where Iolani Lavonne was a scared child desperate for approval had to end, to be replaced with years as the eager and wholehearted interviewer.

Melisende's face scrunched upwards in a wide smile. "That's the spirit. Now, try to hurry up. We have to be back in the studio by one."

Iolani glanced at her watch- 12:50 pm. Her breaks were so short. Melisende finished off her coffee as Io scoffed down the rest of her cake, taking care not to smudge off too much of her magenta lipstick, before they left the balcony and went back inside. They crossed the cafe without a glance to anyone else there, though it was relatively packed with stylists, technicians, and members of the press.

"I'm not sure which mentors you're interviewing today, care to remind me?" Melisende mumbled offhandedly as they reached the elevator and hoped nobody would be occupying it.

Iolani snapped out of the relative daze she'd found herself in. "Oh, yes! I'm pretty sure it's Pierre, Yvonne, and Gilbert." She hadn't needed to consult her journal, as these were the last three to be interviewed out of the twenty-four. Gilbert was one of two mentors that had won their Games during Iolani's internship, and one of her personal favorite Victors- a boy from Twelve that won out of sheer endurance. Pierre was a middle-aged Career victor from District Four, and Yvonne was from Seven and won five years before him. She was excited to meet Yvonne for the first time- she was a rather reserved woman who'd only restarted mentoring recently after having children- but her work elevating Seven to Career status in the last few years was a feat to behold.

The sliding doors opened, and whilst they were accompanied by a tired-looking technician, they reached their studio without any trouble. Their makeup and hair were quickly fixed up by the gaggle of stylists waiting for them as they exited the elevator, ever fussy about Io's fuchsia waves and the highlighter on her dark skin, before they were allowed back on set to present to the public at one on the dot. For mentor interviews, Melisende had to sit back and observe, but she was present for the precursory discussion.

At one thirty the mentors arrived, sitting down on the couch opposite Iolani. Pierre Morogh was up first, and whilst Iolani questioned him on how his year had been, he gave the typical charming answers- wonderful, he was so proud of his District for their volunteers this year.

"So, I hear your teenage daughter has expressed a desire to volunteer when she turns eighteen," Iolani pried. "What are your views on that?"

Pierre coughed awkwardly. "I'll support her in any decision she makes, but I've advised against it." Iolani let out an interested 'ooh'. "I'd rather she use her academy training to coach future tributes than risk death when she already lives in the Victor's Village. I don't want her to potentially waste her life."

"I'm sure you have her best interests at heart, but aren't you worried you'll be branded as overprotective?"

Pierre sighed, the perplexed look on his face showing he knew he had dug himself into a hole, and he'd have to think carefully about what he was going to say next. "Maybe so. But the life of my child is more important than my public image."

Soon, Yvonne Huxley was being interviewed.

"I'm proud to say we've had our first proper academy set up in Seven this past year." She beamed. "Expect two wonderful volunteers from us."

"I'm very glad to hear! President Karnak's relaxation of the laws against training tributes has been greatly beneficial to the Districts, as we'll be bound to witness."

"The President has given me a lot of hope- I care deeply for my District, and want nothing but for our children to succeed in the Games. Maybe we can stand a chance against the traditional Career Districts this year." She said, her face lighting up.

Lastly, Gilbert Paleo. He smiled genuinely as Iolani declared his name to the cameras. "It's lovely to see you again this year, Gilbert!"

"It's nice to see you too," He said, his inflection confident. She had met him before, during her internship, and the boy's self-assured disposition hadn't changed since his interview with Dorian five years ago. "I can't believe this is already my fourth year mentoring."

"It's impressive for someone so young," she replied, almost as if he weren't the same age as her. "You've been doing a lot of work in Twelve, haven't you?"

"Right, I have!" He exclaimed exuberantly, clapping his hands together. One of them was visibly mechanical- a result of him losing his arm from the elbow down during the last fight of his Game. "I've been working with the higher-ups in the District to bring the Seam out of poverty. There's still a lot of work to do and it's been incredibly difficult, but I think by the next Quell we'll be close. I've put a lot of my Victor earnings into this, and I'm going to try my best to help another kid win for the betterment of our District."

Iolani wiped a tear from her eye, only half-faked. "That's so noble, Gilbert. The President would be proud of your work." And he would- many of Karnak's acts as President were to improve the state of the Districts after a long period of disruption and violence.

"I'm glad you think so." He said, looking only slightly uncomfortable. The kid was clearly trying his best, but talking about the President in such a positive light would be saved only for TV. Anyone who'd actually met him would attest to how he was only interested in helping the Districts for his own selfish gains. He was just good at hiding it as being benevolent.

After some more small talk with the three mentors, the cameras focused in on Iolani and Melisende. "So, that's it for the mentor interviews! You'll be seeing a lot more of them in the coming weeks, so stay tuned! Melisende and I will be back after the break to provide more pre-Reaping intel, as well as speculate on outfits for tomorrow's Parade!"

The cameraman gave them a thumbs up. _That's a wrap._ Io thought. She gratefully thanked the mentors, shook Gilbert's non-robotic hand, and allowed them to be escorted off by their personal Capitol teams. They'd have to go back to their Districts now, prepare for their reapings. She was sure under his facade, Gilbert was worried that his efforts would be for null. Pierre might not be able to keep his child from becoming a Tribute. Yvonne's hopes for her newly Career-status District might be shattered.

Iolani hoped things would work out, but in the end, it was now her job to detach herself from people with hopes, dreams, and fears. Someone on set handed her a glass of water, and she drank gratefully. She did love the cameras, lights, and personalities- but she had a nagging doubt in the back of her mind that told her that she wasn't prepared for the first year on the job.

* * *

 **Yo, I'm Henry and welcome to my first SYOT! Some of you might already know me, some may not. Either way, I hope you enjoyed this prologue. I haven't seen much emphasis on the Hunger Games Hosts or Announcers in many of the SYOTs I've read, so that's where this came from!**

 **As it's a Google Form, I'll have to link the Tribute form on my profile.** **I'm also accepting** **escorts** **, but if I don't get twelve that's fine, I'll add some of my own characters. Same with tributes, the form is on my profile.**

 **Like other SYOTs, I'm going to be using a sponsorship system with chapter questions for extra points. The full list of what actions will get you what number of points will be on my profile eventually.**

 **If I get both One Tributes pretty quickly, I'll be doing their intros next, but if not, there'll be another prologue from the POV of Astraea, the Head Gamemaker. If you'd be interested in that, let me know in a review! (if you're confused about pronoun use when I mentioned them, they're agender, so refer to them with gender-neutral pronouns!)**

 **Ok, so, I think I know how to do this.** _ **CQ#1: What do you think of Io? Do you think she'll be a good Host?**_

 **Again, thank you so much for making it this far, I hope it wasn't too long. If you're considering submitting, I'm excited to see your Tributes! If not, I hope you'll enjoy the ride.**


	2. District One: Hopes and Expectations

**Cha boi finally got around to finishing this chapter! I'm super nervous about this. Both of these characters belong to** Little Knight Mik **, and I hope you enjoy reading their introductions :)!**

* * *

 **Idris Eiluned, 17, District One**

 **Two years and six months before the Reaping**

They were so sick of being stuck in this damn hospital.

They'd been here four times in the past, though at seven months now, this was their longest stay by far. They could only hope they'd be let out soon. They'd been moved around from the wards to the rehab centre, of course, but the only time they'd actually left since arrival had been for the Reaping. Idris was obliged to attend since they weren't exactly on death's door, but they weren't at any risk. As expected, One had two volunteers lined up- nobody untrained was going to go into the Games, the whole reaping ceremony just being for the tradition of it, at this point. Idris enjoyed the Games enough to not be too annoyed by the whole thing.

They did absolutely _hate_ this place, though. People were constantly judging them- they knew by the way their eyebrows furrowed, and their mouths set, that look of almost-pity. At least they wouldn't be openly berated here, unlike school. Plump kids in District One weren't much liked among the hopeful Academy trainees and future Capitol models. Maddox, one of their fathers, had already been banned from their old school for storming in and screaming at everyone- teachers, students, even the headmaster- so angry and upset that it made Idris want to curl into a ball and cry. They'd tried their best to get _better_ \- better in the eyes of their peers, at least. And look where it had gotten them. Stuck in a clinically white room, being talked to by therapists and doctors all the time, and being an absolute drain on their dads. Arthfael and Maddox had tried to convince the staff to let them go home already, but the warden was staunch in his decision that they weren't well enough yet. They weren't purging or anything anymore, what else did they need from them? They'd listened to advice from staff and put it into practice. Apart from periodical reflux, spending over half a year here had improved their condition tremendously. They weren't a risk to themself anymore!

Idris was generally exhausted with their current situation. They wanted nothing more than to be out of here, with actual stimuli to keep them occupied. They hadn't baked in _seven months_! Although they'd been in the hospital the whole time, Idris had decided to tune into the Hunger Games this year- and they were glad they did. It had been entertaining, probably the most entertaining thing that had happened during their extended stay; her methods were a bit too ruthless for their tastes, but District One had gained another victor, the lean and gorgeous Arabella Silvio. She was the first victor for five years. She was every part the charming District One career, someone people would _look up to_ \- a role model. Her victory tour was meant to end today, in her home District. God, how Idris wished they were allowed out to attend; they could just imagine the crowds, the recognition, the love showered upon the young woman. They'd just have to observe from a TV screen as they had been for all of her Tour so far- at least they had other sick kids for company.

One who'd come in a couple days ago was a lanky boy called Laurent. He was about the same age as them, and unlike Idris, with their long-term bulimia, he wasn't here for an extended stay- he'd somehow got himself alcohol poisoning, almost killing himself in the process. Idris was amused by his company, this kid just turned fifteen who'd been irresponsible enough to have that much to drink at once. In fact, he shouldn't be drinking at all! They'd make sure to help him with his issue if his perpetually absent parents wouldn't. And if they could maybe _leave_ , first.

Sweeping them away from their thoughts, there came a knock from outside. "Mx. Eiluned?" A nurse muttered as she poked her head through a crack in the door.

"Come in," Idris replied hopefully. Maybe it would be something _not_ awful.

"Arabella's arrived in the District, and the celebration of her victory is going to commence soon," she continued, making her way into the room and shutting the door gently behind her. She looked far too reserved and uncomfortable. Idris just wished people would relax around them- they weren't _that_ volatile, right? Either way, the nurse's serious demeanour was really off-putting to them. "I'm sure you'd love to see her in person. After all, she's the first victor in a while. The warden's agreed to let certain patients attend the event, including quite a few from rehab."

Wait, they were going to let them out? To attend the Victory Tour?

"Can I actually go?" Idris said, stunned.

The nurse nodded. "Your parents said you'd probably like to get some fresh air and a change of scenery. You'd have to come back afterwards, of course, since you haven't fully finished your recovery."

Idris rolled their eyes. Of course, they'd have to stay here. They'd probably have to stay in rehab and have more tests, more evaluations, more more more, until they were finally announced Totally Fine and allowed to leave this boring cage. But at least they could get out for now! Have some fun! Not indulge themselves, they were still kind of conscious about what they ate- but feel some of the bright winter sun on their face, breath in the crisp, icy air. Maybe Laurent would be allowed out too! They'd seen him be visited by two kids who looked about their age as well, perhaps they'd be there as well… Who were they kidding, everyone who wasn't actively dying was going to be there. Whenever One brought home another victor, the Tour was used as a second massive, District-wide party. Idris hadn't been permitted to attend the first when Arabella had initially come home after slaughtering eight kids. Thinking of having some quality time with their dads, out in public where everyone is too focussed on Arabella and on the celebration to humiliate them… It was nice, and they smiled at the thought.

They thanked the nurse, who subsequently left the room, saying she'd bring their parents in. It did bother Idris slightly that she refused to refer to them as both being fathers, but it might just be a formality. They would let it go, they guessed.

Before their parents were scheduled to arrive to join them for the last day of Arabella's Tour, Idris had to think of actually taking care of themself a bit. They'd been given a lot of counselling in regard to how they viewed their own body, so at least they weren't as ashamed of their curves and round figure like they used to be. They were sure that if they were forced to go back into public schooling, it would be a lot harder not to relapse- but for now, at least, they were going to try being confident around other people. Due to it being the middle of winter, they didn't really have to worry about being seen as fat- everyone would be bundled up in layers to keep from freezing to death. One was pretty far north in Panem, after all.

They'd gotten an upgrade after moving from the intensive shared hospital wards to the rehab centre, and they actually had their own room. They freshened themself up in their small en-suite bathroom, trying to make their shoulder-length black hair look presentable and brushing their teeth. They'd really had to step it up regarding their dental care- years of forcing themself to throw up regularly had damaged the enamel, and it was yet another thing that they had to work on to be discharged. Of course, they were going to keep it up after they left- they _wanted_ to be better, they didn't ever want to be in a hospital again.

Idris got dressed, though the snow falling outside their window was slightly concerning when the warmest item available in the drawer by their bed was a sweatshirt. Luckily, their dads arrived pretty soon after- bringing their old winter coat from home with them.

Idris grinned widely as the two men entered their room. Maddox swept them up in a big hug, though not lifting them up as they were pretty tall for fourteen-year-old. Arthfael joined in, and though it had only been a few days since the two had seen their child, an outsider might think it had been weeks.

"How are you? Are they treating you okay? Are they respecting your pronouns?" Arthfael said worriedly, hands on Idris' broad shoulders as they broke the group hug.

"Yes, dad, it's all fine," they laughed. "All the staff are pretty good about it. I hate this building though, I'm fed up of it. I wish they'd let me just go home."

Arthfael nodded, reassured. Maddox looked peeved though. "If you need me to, I'll yell at them to let you go. I can't have your mental health suffering because you're all cooped up, kid."

"Dad, how did yelling go _last time?_ " Before he could answer, Idris replied to their own question. "Not good. I'll just have to blast them out the water with how great I've gotten at looking after myself." _And I don't want to stress out my dads again after this. They've already been through too much without me adding onto that,_ they thought.

"Alright, kiddo," Maddox sighed. "You can power through this, we believe in you. After you're discharged, we're definitely enrolling you in a better school."

That was good. They couldn't deal with going back to that old hellhole; the students there were the reason they were here in the first place.

From outside, they could hear the gathering of people. Arthfael looked out of the window to see people begin to flood the streets, joking and laughing about, all excited to see their Victor. He smiled and looked back to his family- "We better get going if we want to catch a glimpse of her."

Idris pulled on their coat, put on a pair of shoes, and left the room with their dads. That nurse was waiting outside, to Maddox's dismay, and he just ignored everything she said as he held his child's hand and led them through the halls to the exit of the centre. Arthfael laughed and apologised for his husband, saying he'd sign whatever papers he had to after the Tour ended.

A couple other patients were allowed out and were making their way excitedly towards the square. The only other teenager was Laurent- Idris waved to him, accompanied by the two friends they'd seen visit him. Idris wondered how he'd managed to get clearance to leave for the day without parents attending him; the strawberry blonde girl and stupidly tall boy sure weren't his mom and dad.

The hospital wasn't too far from District One's centre square, the one where Reapings took place. The wide streets were occupied by hundreds of people, barriers put up along the main road so that the hoard couldn't burst out onto where Arabella and her team would parade through to get to the centre. Just in case, there were a lot of Peacekeepers stationed about to, well, keep the peace. Idris ended up holding onto the hands of both their dads, just so they wouldn't get carried away or lost. The change of atmosphere from their quiet rehab centre room was incredible; they were honestly in awe at how everyone had gotten together to celebrate one person, in the icy cold, snow coming down in a flurry. Stalls were selling hot chocolate, savoury snacks, sweet-smelling pastries… No, they'd wait until later, no matter how tempting the assortment of cakes and tarts were. _The first cake you see, and you're already reverting back to that unhealthy mindset? Come on, Idris! You're better than this!_ They thought. _No,_ the irrational side of them retorted. They passed that stall with a wistful gaze. _You can treat yourself when you're out of rehab… soon. It'll be soon._

A huge crowd had already gathered in the central square when the Eiluneds got there. There was a parting down the middle of the crowd for the guest of honour. She'd go through the whole District before stopping here to make her speech and commence the party for real. Idris grinned, the energy of everything seeping into them. Maddox shoved through the crowds with a "make way!" as Arthfael came up the rear, guiding Idris through the squish. They ended up with pretty much front-row seats, on the corner between the gap in the crowd and the stage up front. Banners in blue and gold were up all over the buildings in the square with District One's symbol emblazoned on them. The air was buzzing in anticipation as more people flooded into the square; on the other side, Idris could see it filling up to the very back. In almost no time at all, thousands were here, with more leaning out of windows in the area's surrounding buildings.

The first tip-off that Arabella had arrived was the yelling and applause from the back of the crowd. Idris leaned over the barrier, Maddox and Arthfael grinning along with them as the young woman came into view. In the time between her victory and now she'd celebrated her nineteenth birthday, but apart from being decked out in Capitol fashion, she looked no different from how she did when Idris had seen her on Reaping day, on that very stage, ready to go off and win for her people. Arabella's smile was broad as she stood atop a moving platform, elevated so all could see her. She whooped and hollered along with everyone, waving enthusiastically to both sides of the audience. It looked like her tiny body couldn't hold all of the enthusiasm in, as she wouldn't stop moving, surrounded by all of the attention. It _captivated_ Idris. They stared at the woman, and as she got closer to the stage, Idris could swear they made eye contact with her. _Wonder_ would be an accurate term for how they felt when everything clicked into place, frozen as everything around them continued on.

Arabella arrived on stage, accompanied by her team; Galena Facet, a charming, olive-skinned man, her mentor who had won five years ago; Lapin Lucius, a skilled escort with albinism who sported the same cute rabbit aesthetic each year; and her stylist, a smug looking Capitolite with glacial blue skin. All four of them were dressed to theme- fashion based off old-world Victorian clothes, frilled and elegant. Considering the arena of the 159th Games was a gigantic, sprawling manor house, it went well with One's industry of luxury. Arabella's dress was undoubtedly quite luxurious, though not in line with traditional Capitol fashion at all. The outfits for the arena had gotten Victorian clothes in style; they were all the rage now, apparently.

"District One!" Arabella roared into her mic. She was the shortest on stage by far, but the fierce look in her eyes only enthralled Idris more. "It's my honour to come home to all of you."

More whooping from the crowd. Peacekeepers stationed around the barriers keeping everyone in shuffled a bit, signalling them to quiet down.

Arabella seemed to calm down as well, glancing over the thousands of people in front of her. She had no cue cards, totally winging it, as Idris could tell from how Lapin's grafted-on bunny tail twitched- probably hoping she wouldn't say anything ridiculous or treasonous.

"Firstly, to the family of my partner, Eamon. Your son was an excellent man, and I respect him greatly. I'm sorry for your loss, but his death was not in vain. I will keep him in mind always, and I thank him for helping me gain victory." She actually sounded genuine. She smiled down at the family of the dead boy at the front of the crowd, his assumed parents both nodding. Idris couldn't see from here, but they didn't appear angry from the way their shoulders were relaxed. It made sense- by allowing your child to train at the Academy, you've got to prepare for the possibility of them being picked to volunteer, and then for the high chance of them being killed. _If you win, though…_ Idris thought, _the appreciation and acknowledgment would be insane._

Arabella continued her speech. She talked about how grateful she was to her trainers at the Academy, to her parents and siblings for supporting her, to her girlfriend, Vivian, and to everyone who'd been wealthy enough to sponsor her.

"And of course, _you_ , the ordinary District One citizen! Standing in this crowd as we speak are future victors of these Games. All of you- I'm privileged to be your future mentor. I'm proud of all of the eligible volunteers studying right now at the Academy, and all of you potential students out there. I believe in you and your abilities."

Idris felt their throat contract. Arabella spoke so passionately, so authentically. They bit their lip.

They had to bring this up with their dads after this was over.

Her speech ended soon after. Idris could hardly will themself to do anything, mind racing.

 _I'm not going back to normal school,_ they realised. _I can't._ The crowd began dispersing after Arabella and her team left via the backstage, Lapin and Galena looking profoundly proud of the girl. Before they knew it, the crowd had almost entirely gone, going out to party in other parts of the District. Peacekeepers shepherded citizens out, with Idris and their dads following along. Maddox and Arthfael talked excitedly about what they'd get to do as a family for this one day Idris was permitted out.

They were ushered along back down the main street with the rest of the crowd- now the barricades had been taken down from either side of the road, it was a lot less cluttered, and Idris could take some deep breaths. Were they actually gonna join the Academy? Would they even be allowed in with their medical history? Training would certainly be a healthier way of staying in shape than skipping meals and throwing up...

They'd worry about it after they left rehab. _You can do it by the time you turn fifteen, Idris,_ they thought. _You'll make it on that stage. Your dads will support you, they always do._

Given new motivation, Idris smiled at their dads and vowed to themselves that they would eventually be able to smile down at the adoring faces of all District One, proving everyone who had ever berated and doubted them wrong. They had to.

* * *

 **Saffir Eiluned, 18, District One**

 **Two days before the Reaping**

Saffir groaned. He'd waited _far_ too fucking long to do this, and he was almost out of time. He wasn't going to let himself volunteer without finishing off his checklist.

Right now, he and Gilgamesh were at the Academy. _"Last minute training, Saff!"_ Gil had grinned as he dragged the boy to the almost empty building half an hour ago. Usually, this would be great! But now, in one of the large training rooms, a sword in his hands and the hottest man in all Panem before him, the last thing he'd be able to do was concentrate on single combat with his worst weapon. Duels were never fun; Saff sure hoped he wouldn't be faced with one next week when he'd be in the Arena. _If I can even allow myself volunteer at this point,_ he thought annoyedly. If he couldn't tell his trainer about how gay he was for him, he wouldn't be good enough to stand next to the legendary Idris Eiluned on stage. And with Gil convincing his higher-ups that _nobody_ else on the shortlist would be even nearly as good as Saff, he knew what he had to do.

He adjusted his grip on the hilt of the blade. _He's doing this on purpose,_ Saff mused as he exhaled and prepared to clash blades. The boy had never backed down from a challenge before, and he wasn't about to now. _This'll probably be useful anyway, even if he purposely loses._

As always, Saffir struggled to keep up with Gil's swings; he relied heavily on evasion, waiting for openings to jab at his trainer. The blunted sword was too heavy in his hands, too heavy to be comfortable, but with a furrowed brow and determined posture Saff managed to back Gil up against the wall, blade hanging just below where one of Gil's _stupid_ dangly gold earrings came to about his jugular.

The blond man smirked. "You have gotten a lot better, I must admit. You don't give yourself enough credit."

Saffir laughed and lowered the sword. "You let me win," he said light-heartedly.

Gil dropped his sword with a clang and raised up his hands defensively. "Why on earth would I do that? You know I wouldn't give you any false hope, Saff."

There he went again with the goddamned teasing. Saffir rolled his shoulders and adjusted his binder- would he be allowed this in the Games? No matter, he'd worry about it later. He turned on his heel and went to put away the swords, exchanging them for a handful of throwing knives. Gil leaned back against the wall and watched as Saff dramatically twirled a dagger around before hurling it into a dummy's chest on the other side of the hall. Gilgamesh let out a low whistle as Saff continued to throw the knives- each landing what would be a killing blow. Saff sighed and bit his lower lip- it was basically now or never. No use in really distracting himself from his situation anymore.

"Gil," he said in the calmest voice he could muster, going down the hall to pick each knife out of the dummies. Maybe not actually looking at him would make this easier?

Gil hummed curiously, his arms crossed as he stopped leaning against the wall and looked to be walking down the hall to join his student. Fuck, Saffir was going to actually have to look him in the eye. "What's up?" Gil asked casually as he decided to sling an arm around a dummy's neck. Could he be more relaxed? Saff gulped, avoiding looking at the taller man as he twizzled a throwing knife around his finger. Dangerous, yes, but anything to distract him from Gil right now.

"I mean, a lot is up for sure," Saffir mumbled absentmindedly. "Fuck that, no, I'm gonna be open about it," His posture changed to one more suited of the usually confident boy. "I like you. A lot."

"Ah. So you do." Gil said, looking almost amused.

"Yeah! I owe you basically everything, how could I not fall in love with you?"

Gil looked Saff over, contemplating something. Saffir kept a determined expression, but it was wavering slightly.

"Okay." Gil resolved. _It's something,_ Saffir thought with a relieved sigh. He noticed Gilgamesh was unhooking one of his blocky gold earrings, and Saffir opened his mouth to question what he was doing. "Shush Saff, gimme a moment."

He waited awkwardly as Gil made him hold out a palm. He grinned and dropped the blocky earring into it. "Alright, so, here's the deal. You bring this back to me after the Games, and I'll tell you if I feel the same."

Oh, the bastard. Saff looked down at the piece of jewellery, a lot going through his head. All he could do was _laugh_ \- it was so stupid, oh my God, Gil knew this would motivate Saffir like nothing else- he looked back up at the taller man, beaming.

"I'm gonna look like such a fool with only one of these heavy-ass motherfuckers on, you know that, right?" He laughed.

Gil looked incredibly smug. "I know. Guess you'll just have to come back, so I don't look like a fool as well."

Saffir's heart was racing. He was sure he was red as a beet, and his heart was racing. What now? Should he put the earring on already- no, no, he'll just pocket it. Save wearing it for the actual Games. He hoped it'd pass token regulations.

Gil took this opportunity to change the subject entirely. "So, do your parents know you're volunteering as the male tribute?"

Saff snorted. "You know they don't."

"Touché," Gil shrugged. "Ekrem's never been the most open-minded man." He turned on his heel and looked as if he was going off to pick up another weapon to practice with. Aw, come on.

"So you're still gonna make me do work," Saffir groaned.

"Of course. If I'm gonna get my earring back, we've got to work extra hard in the next two days. We gotta get you leagues above your perfect cousin."

Idris was a big deal for sure, but Saffir wasn't sure they were exactly perfect. There had been rumours about their past school and some period of hospitalisation for an eating disorder, but you wouldn't really know by how confident and optimistic they were. He held no ill will against them- in fact, learning about them a couple months ago had been a dominant driving force for him bettering himself- but he knew very well that he'd be in a death game with them. For him to get back to Gil Idris would have to die, and he was acutely aware of it.

At least thinking of Idris had taken his mind off Gil a bit. He sparred a bit more with his trainer, who made more banter than ever, and by noon Saffir was worn out and his chest was aching. He knew Idris would probably forbid him from wearing his binder in the Games, but, whatever. He knew it was unsafe, but Idris was lucky to be comfortable with showing off their more feminine features. Saffir the Stubborn was not.

More people had entered the Academy by now, telling by the noise outside the room, but still not as many as usual. Because by now both volunteers had been decided on, a lot of people just kinda skipped school and took the time surrounding the Games as a break from their training and studies. Sure enough, underperformers were forced to come in, and Saffir was certain Idris would be here at some point. Saffir had never really made any friends here- he was on good terms with Idris's merry band, who they'd apparently met in hospital, but for the most part, Saffir's only significant relationship was with his twenty-two-year-old trainer. It was the only one he really needed- if he was going to die (which he wasn't), it'd be better for as few people as possible to be attached to him. It was selfish of him, since Idris generally had more people back home waiting for them, but Gilgamesh was worth it. He'd helped Saffir find out he was trans, he'd given Saff a major boost to his self-esteem, he'd stood up for him against his hostile parents- Saffir wouldn't be who he was today without the man, and he owed it to him to get back home in one piece.

"You should go get something to eat, Saff. If you can find Idris, you should probably go over some strategy with them."

Saff leant on the half-pike he'd been practising with. He _was_ hungry, and it made sense to begin making plans early. "Alright. I'm sure you'll be able to find me if you need me."

Gil nodded, and Saff left the training room for the Academy's cafeteria.

People smiled at him in the corridors as he went, some whispering to each other. Until recently the Eiluneds had been pretty under the radar, but after both were chosen to volunteer this year, they'd become the talk of the Academy. Saffir loved the attention; he got basically none back home, so it was nice to feel appreciated somewhere. Idris was similar, revelling in the publicity they got. Their whole shtick was positivity and hope- they even modelled for Open Arms, an organisation centred around having a positive body image- which had honestly made Saffir giddy when he'd found out about it. He wanted to kick his father's ass for hiding the fact Saff had any relatives outside of his parents and grandparents at all, but he'd save it for when he got home and could immediately move into the Victor's Village. He'd have to make sure to donate generously to Open Arms for Idris's sake. He'd had some doubts, but after Gil's challenge, he was entirely set in his decision. He didn't like admitting it to himself, but if push came to shove, he'd kill Idris. It was a necessary evil.

He noticed his cousin and their friends right away. He waved to Idris as they saw him enter, and he went off to get something to eat. It made sense that they were here honestly; they were probably getting some last-minute training in as well. Now that he'd confessed to Gil, Saff had finished off his List Of Things To Do Before He Would Be Worthy To Volunteer- now he just had to begin making Games plans with Idris, and they would be set. That and coming out to their entire District when he volunteers- but that was for Reaping Day to worry about.

The food at the Academy was actually pretty good, at least better than his mother's dreadful cooking. He settled down next to Idris with a tray, which was fine because he didn't really care if he was interrupting anything. He still wanted to _impress_ Idris though- being a self-confident prick was apparently the best way of doing that.

Idris's friends greeted Saff with a smile. None of them had aimed for a volunteer position at all, so no hard feelings- they were just here because it was the best education facility in District One. From what he'd heard, the blonde girl Dior wanted to move to the Capitol and become a famous singer, the coincidentally huge boy Titan wishing to start his own fashion brand, and Laurent... God knew what Laurent wanted to do with his life. All four looked to have just finished eating.

Idris grinned widely at Saff as he made himself comfortable. "I was just going to go looking for you."

"Well, I'm here." He smirked.

Dior picked up her tray and leant over to Idris. "Well, if you're going to talk about serious Games stuff, we're gonna go. Have fun!"

Titan and Laurent followed suit, the three leaving the cousins alone to talk.

Idris put their elbows on the table and looked Saff in the eyes. "So, this is actually happening. You are gonna go ahead and volunteer, right?"

Saffir scoffed. "Of course. I can't let everyone down. Plus, if I don't volunteer, who would go in my place? Some kid? Some brute? I can't let _that_ happen."

A smile tugged at Idris's lips. "I'm glad. It's kinda crazy we'll be going in together, but at least it'll be fun. And one of us will have a higher chance of victory."

Saff chewed on his food and nodded eagerly. As well as Idris being incapable of turning on Saff, the two also complemented each other greatly. They would be an unstoppable team in the Arena, so even if the Career pack sucked this year, they'd at least have each other as strong allies.

They continued talking- about the other Districts, their mentor, the Capitol and how excited they were to see it- until Idris was called away by a returning Laurent to do something 'pretty urgent' for him. Saffir wondered what could be so serious, but he didn't question it too far. He'd have plenty of time in the coming days to chat with Idris.

There were some severe expectations on his shoulders for this Games- from his parents, from himself, from Gilgamesh. He could never admit it to himself, not seriously, anyway- but he sure hoped he wouldn't be forced to turn on Idris. They had given him hope in the first place; if he were the one to take away their hopes, their dreams… He wasn't sure he could bring the earring back in good conscience.

* * *

 **WHOOF! This took so much longer than I wanted it to. Hopefully, now that I'm kinda getting into the groove of it, I can write a bit quicker, plus I've got a break coming up where I can get stuff done. Obviously, school sucks ass and has been bogging me down a bit, and also Depression™, but Yeah. I've got a lot of drive to make it through these intro chapters, and my friends will basically make it so that I never drop this project lol.**

 **So, there are the introductions for our District 1 tributes out! For this CQ, _what do you think of the Eiluneds? Which of these confident babies is your favourite?_**

 **I'll be back soon with the District 2 intros, so until then, see ya! - Henry**


	3. District Two: Altruism and Selfishness

**Hey ho here's District 2! Thanks so much to** later glader **and** CelticGames4 **for these kids! I hope I wrote them okay ?**

* * *

 **Keithia Sewick, 17, District Two**

 **One month before the Reaping**

Everything was leading up to today. One foot in front of the other, faster, keep on pushing yourself, Thia, you have to. With a grunt, she made it to the end of the track again-

"That was your fastest time yet, Thia!"

Beads of sweat were dripping down her forehead as she came to a stop and rested her palms on her knees. Everything ached, but she wasn't about to show any weaknesses to Chario. Still catching her breath from that lap of the huge track District Two's academy had, Thia looked up to see the grinning face of her closest friend.

"I can always do better," Thia retorted, smiling slyly as she drifted over to the benches that lined the back of the field in steep rows and picked up her water bottle. The short girl was essentially living off water nowadays- her perpetual fast was supposed to be good for her health. She was still the speediest girl in the academy despite being exhausted most of the time, but it was fine. Thia would be fine. Her specification in dexterity over strength was going to get her the volunteer place this year, she knew it. The other lacklustre girls in the year above her were no match for Thia's charisma, and smaller more agile careers had won before. The mentor they'd announced for this year, Markus Kallaghan, was living proof of that- because of his presence on the team this year, Thia _had_ to get the place. She absolutely wasn't going to be stuck with a nasty brute as her mentor next year.

She took a seat on the bench and rolled her shoulders back. The sun was beating down today, and across the field, Thia could see other trainees enjoying the summer heat, some playing sports to keep fit and others sparring to improve their fighting skills. The shade provided by the overhang was a blessing, Thia reckoned, as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. She could only hope this year's Arena wasn't this warm- Thia could deal with a more barren environment, but one where the environment would exhaust her even if she weren't doing anything? That would be the nightmare scenario.

Chario joined her. "I bet you'll be glad to relax after the announcement," she began, taking a seat next to her friend and gazing over the academy grounds. "I have no doubts you'll be selected."

Thia would have felt her cheeks heat up if she wasn't already worn out from her sprinting. Other than wanting to become a Victor to help out her parents who'd sacrificed so much, she kinda really wanted to impress the _really cute_ girl who'd supported her through Academy life. Thia was popular, sure, but Chario was the only person she could call an actual friend at the end of it all. Right now, when she was tensely awaiting the announcement, she didn't want to be around too many people, so the track was the perfect place to be, where not a lot of people spent time at. Markus Kallaghan was an excellent runner as well- really, the discipline was underrated in the District of strength. Of course, she was good with weapons and strategy, but this was her thing.

Thia took another sip of water and glanced at the clock mounted on the tower that rose high above the rest of the admittedly huge Academy. The announcement would be made at twelve thirty- she had over an hour left. She wondered what the trainers would be doing- had they already made their decision, or were they debating her merits compared to the other girls on the shortlist up until the last minutes?

Chario glanced over at Thia, a puzzled look on her face. "You're not usually this quiet."

Thia broke her daze immediately, snapping up attention. She laughed awkwardly, tucking a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. "I know, weird, right?"

Chario couldn't help but laugh as well. "Literally, don't worry. There's always next year. And, and, consider: if you aren't picked but that really weird deaf guy is, you'll have dodged a bullet!"

 _I mean, she's right,_ Thia thought- Alcander Caudex-Nicastro was kind of a loner weirdo enigma at the Academy, but he was by far the most interesting person on the shortlist for male volunteer this year. She hadn't actually talked to him before- he was pretty much the kind of cryptic brute Thia didn't like to associate herself with. Chario was kind of judgy of people who were 'unfit to be careers', though, so Alcander was right up there on her list of People Who Would Never Win The Games. He may be probably the strongest boy in the Academy or at least one of them, but his disability put him at too much of a disadvantage, as Chario would put it. Thia cared for Chario a lot, she really did- but her caring too much about Chario's opinions had gotten her to the state she was now- tired every day, eating hardly anything, lying to the trainers about her less than great health. It was worth it to hear Chario tell her she was going to be chosen as volunteer, if not this year then next. The way Thia's heart swelled when she got validation for her hard work made her believe that yes, she was significant, she had made the right choices, she was going to be able to get her mother a _real_ Capitol therapist...

She'd work on improving her own health after she won the Games.

"Mmhm," Thia hummed, realising she'd taken longer than she should have to acknowledge Chario's comment. "He doesn't seem like the best teammate. Worse than Alcander would be Rufus, he's so arrogant and nasty. He may be strong, but the Capitol would hate him." Thia said, remembering how Rufus had broken a trainers leg a couple weeks ago and was temporarily suspended for it. His good looks wouldn't make up for his incredible rudeness- the Academy was a lot pickier with who they chose to volunteer nowadays. With that Academy in Seven set up last year, they had to pick tributes who would really stand out to compete. Of course, the kids in Seven wouldn't have been trained from childhood- but neither was Thia, who had only begun after her mother's accident eight years ago, but the ability to allure the Capitol into sponsoring you was a skill valued as highly as your ability to kill.

"He's _definitely_ not victor material. He's handsome, but I bet the gamemakers would get sick of him and kill him themselves. Oh, Thia, all the boys this year are so awful!" Chario lamented. "You'll really have to be the pulling force for us."

Thia stood back up, tightening her long high ponytail. "Of course I'll have to. I'm pretty confident that I'll be able to steal the spotlight from whichever forgettable guy they're forced to pick."

Chario smiled widely as Thia left the shade of the stands to carry on with her exercising. Running took her mind off things, and the rhythm of _left right left right_ got her lost in time. The Academy clock read 11:38am, so she'd continue running as long as she could muster. She was good at distance, which she was practising as she circled the acres of field, but better at sprinting. At least this built her endurance. She ran past a group of younger trainees doing group sports, a pair of older ones practising a sword duel, and an uncivilised wrestling match between Rufus and some other savage. Dozens of kids out training in the sweltering heat- it was more useful for building their resilience than the air-conditioned halls of the building.

She took a break every few laps to hydrate, have banter with her friend, and have a sit-down and a banana before returning to her running. She'd have to stop eventually, but with how much she had to think about, she'd rather be doing this than her usual gossiping and debating. She knew pretty much everyone in her year and the one above on some level, attended parties and such- as was the lifestyle of a shortlisted trainee. A few people waved to her as she ran, and she would smile at them in response. They're all blurs- the only people who are truly important are her parents and Chario. When she wins and can afford to make more personal bonds, then she'll have more friends- maybe even a girlfriend by then- but as she reached the stands at 12:28pm, she settled down next to Chario and waited with baited breath.

The jingle signifying an announcement played from speakers situated around the outside of the main academy building. Everyone on the field had ceased their actions to listen in.

" _Greetings, students. We ask the final pairs of potential tributes- Tatiana Revio, Keithia Sewick, Alcander Caudex-Nicastro, and Rufus Templeton to promptly make their ways to the Main Hall for final selections. Thank you."_

Thia hopped up from the bench and yelled in excitement. Across the field she could hear Rufus hollering, laughing along with his wrestling buddy. Chario was giggling uncontrollably, grinning and hugging Thia as they bounced.

"Tatiana's nowhere as good as you, Thia! You'll kick her ass and get the volunteer place, now go! You need to be there like, now!" Chario said rushedly, basically shoving Thia in the direction of the far side of the main building where the largest hall was situated. Thia was almost giddy with excitement, taking off in a sprint towards the main building. She was one of the two top candidates! All she'd have to do was beat Tatiana in a fight or something, then the spot would officially be hers. She'd be going into the Games next month! The two male candidates were the ones she'd dreaded, but no matter. She was kinda wondering how Alcander would make it to the hall without properly functioning ears to hear the announcement, but it didn't matter when she made it to the entrance, Rufus in tow. The huge boy was grinning like an absolute menace, and Thia grinned back. She didn't like him, but Keithia Sewick didn't get scared of big guys.

"Didn't think you'd make it this far in the selection process, twig." Rufus hissed. Thia's heart dropped. God, she hated it when people pointed out her appearance. Fuck this guy. She stood her ground and didn't let her smile waver.

"Twigs win more games than rocks. And anyway, the deaf kid's gonna kick your ass, dickhead."

Thia could swear Rufus bust a blood vessel. It was definitely amusing; she didn't actually know if Rufus or Alcander would get the place, but riling him up was more important. He wouldn't be able to touch her, plus, snark was a good coping mechanism that made her feel better about herself.

Tatiana, a slightly taller but lithe girl, showed up just then. She was eighteen, and Thia had to admit she would be a hard opponent to beat. She smiled at her, giving a small wave. She wasn't a bad person or anything, and Thia had nothing against her. Just because Thia had one year left to prove herself and this was Tatiana's last chance didn't mean she would hold back, though.

As soon as Thia began wondering if Alcander had even got the memo, he turned up, looking brooding as usual. The four were let into the Main Hall, set up especially for the final decisions. The three head trainers sat at a table watching them come in, accompanied by the guest of honour, Markus Kallaghan. He hardly spent any time in Two anymore, favouring the Capitol, but as was tradition in the rotation of mentors, he'd have to show up a month before the reapings and decide which teenagers he'd prefer to work with. They ordered Thia and Tatiana to one side of the hall, and Rufus and Alcander to the other- ordinary students weren't allowed to know what went on exactly in the final selections, so she didn't know what to expect.

"Congratulations, candidates. You've all worked extremely hard to make it to this stage of selection for the 162nd Hunger Games, and being here enough is worthy of praise. Two of you will go into the Games, one hopefully securing victory and honour for our District." The head trainer said. She was stating the obvious- Thia assumed it was just courtesy.

"Since we already have done much of the grading and observing necessary to choose our volunteers, this is just a final test. It won't take very long, but it'll decide your futures." The trainer to the left stated. "If you'd go off to the rooms at the sides of the hall and get into the similar clothing we have prepared for you, that would be fantastic."

Thia'd always wondered what those doors at the sides of the hall lead to. A small changing room, it turned out, and two sets of tight leggings and a sleeveless shirt were waiting for her and Tatiana to change into. Figures, you never know what the trainees will be dressed like when they arrive abruptly for the selection. She wasn't really comfortable with other people staring at her body, which she usually assumed they did in changing-clothes scenarios, but Thia dealt with it and assumed that as Tatiana was a decent enough person, she wouldn't say anything about it.

Reentering the hall, the four were left with one instruction.

The trainer to the right gestured to the racks of weapons around the outskirts of the hall. "Immobilise your opponent. Use whatever you have to. Think of this like a boxing match- whichever of you remains on the ground for over ten seconds is out. The other is our volunteer."

"Good luck."

* * *

 **Alcander Caudex-Nicastro, 18, District Two**

 **Three weeks before the Reaping**

Everyone had asked him how he'd done it, how the _disabled kid_ had beaten Rufus Templeton in a fight to become volunteer. Al wasn't obliged to give them an answer. They'd seen him in a fight, how that messy and undisciplined brute had no chance against him. At least, for once in his life, his parents hadn't been completely disappointed by his actions. He didn't think they were proud of him, per say, but relieved that they hadn't adopted a totally lost cause eighteen years ago.

He considered that they might be happier than they were before his selection last week because now they might finally be able to get rid of him, which with all of the pushing to volunteer no matter what they've probably been trying to do his whole life. If he died in the Games, Kaius or Isabela could probably get the chance to volunteer in the next few years. Both of them were a lot less difficult than he was, but it still stood that Alcander was going to go into the Games in three weeks, and whether he won or not, he'd be able to get away from his family. All of them.

Seeing Seneca sitting at the panel during the selection had made him almost sick. Since he was put on the top ten list, that… _vile_ man had tried to buddy up to Al. He had been boiling with rage, that disgusting monster refereeing on a fight deciding whether he or the kid who was as much of a horrible bigot as Seneca himself got to go into the Games? That was probably what allowed him the drive to break Rufus' stupid prettyboy nose and knock him out cold. He absolutely wouldn't allow himself to stay here any longer. The Games was all Al had going for him, and nothing was going to stop him from going into them with tunnel vision and killing anyone he needed to get out. The skinny runner girl had somehow outsmarted Tatiana and got her in a choke hold, knocking her unconscious before almost passing out herself. She'd be a good asset to the career alliance with her wit and agility, but there were six other potential members to worry about as well. Al'd had Games strategy nailed into his his his entire life, so of course he knew the merits of a well-constructed career group; he just hoped the kids from Seven wouldn't be a drag instead of an asset.

He was stewing over this just as Keithia entered the room. She said something, vague noises registering thanks to the implant in his ear, but he couldn't make out the words. He turned his head so that he could look at her face and read her lips as she took a seat next to Al. "I had to run an errand for my dad. Life's become a lot busier in the past week."

"Fair enough," Markus shrugged. "You aren't too late." Al turned his attention back to his would-be mentor. He was required to go to these meetings now; they'd been given a week to relax, have everyone know who Two's volunteers would be, shit like that. It was definitely cheating, preparing so much before the Games, but Al had no qualms about getting the upper hand on other tributes. After all, haven't Seven's volunteers been personally coached by Yvonne Huxley for years? If the four victors she'd had under her wing were in any way telling, it would be that mentors already knowing their tributes was never a bad thing.

"So, I hope you two are ready to up your game this year," Markus stated, looking almost bored. "I haven't mentored since the 154th, but that also means we only have eight victors right now. That's dangerously low by our standards. And with two more of Yvonne's kids, you're gonna be hard pressed for a victory."

"One woman can't start a revolution," Keithia laughs. "Seven might be considered 'career' now, but that doesn't mean the tributes from any other District will be well prepared. It's normal for there to be about eight strong contenders each year anyway, so the odds aren't _totally_ against us."

She was right- this wouldn't immediately change everything. There were other groups of victors in different Districts who were completely against training tributes, like in Three and Ten. In his view, the fewer kids who got trained each year, the better. The career Districts were more disadvantaged now than they were thirty years ago, when everywhere except them was on the brink of total collapse. He was still going to hope there weren't any threatening outer District tributes. While he would probably leave Keithia behind the moment she became a burden, keeping her around as long as possible would be a smart choice.

Markus cracked his knuckles. "Correct. There won't be a revolution unless something ridiculous happens in the outer Districts. Yvonne was subtle about transitioning her District to greatness, and they'd already had career-type victors before her."

"Johanna Mason?" Al spoke up. He could talk perfectly fine, he'd only lost his hearing eight years ago- but it was still a source of anxiety, and unlike Keithia, he preferred to keep his mouth shut. Mason was a legend among the Districts for winning _two_ Games, despite all the odds against her in an arena filled with previous victors. Thanks to the 3rd Quell, Twelve had lost both of its victors and didn't get another for over twenty years.

The older man before the two nodded. "Now, I don't reckon anyone other than Yvonne will have had contact with tributes before now. One is unlucky to have Arabella this year, it's pretty well known that she's not exactly right in the head, despite what her public appearances portray," Markus swept a lock of his wavy dark hair out of his face, "and Pierre Morogh is a man too worried about his own child to pay attention to any tributes he'll be coaching."

Al wasn't inept in his knowledge of victors, but learning more about each one and the advice they'd likely give (or not give) their tributes would put them at a unique advantage. With weeks to prepare with Markus, he could really have a chance at victory. He continued to listen to his loud-mouthed partner and Markus, adding in comments and replies where necessary. He'd have to come back tomorrow after finishing his personal training for more advice- Markus wanted to use this time to go over all of the tips he had for the pre-Games amble and dealing with Capitolites, a skill he was well-versed in as an honorary lapdog. This left strategising about the actual tributes for the rest of their time. It was an efficient system that Alcander direly hoped would give him a leg up.

He needed to win more than anything.

The meeting wrapped up in just about an hour, Markus waving his tributes goodbye and good luck. Al parted ways with Keithia, not a word to her as soon as they left the room. He was gonna keep her on his good side, but he wouldn't be purposefully nice to her. He knew it was about 6 pm- the meetings would be held at the end of the day. He breathed a tense sigh when he'd gotten just out of range. Most people would be leaving the Academy by now, and he had no friends to spend time with, so he might as well bite the bullet and go home.

He kept the cold expression he wore every day on as he left the Academy, seeing a group of younger trainees pass by. In the modern culture of likability equalling good tribute prospects, Al was an outlier. Then again, so was Rufus. At least that shallow asshole had admirers and buddies. Al kept his head down and did well in almost all aspects of training. It had gotten him the spot, so he sighed when the younger trainees had looked at each other with those worried faces of theirs and began muttering to each other. He could only just read _nutjob_ and _weirdo_ , which were the usual. Being the designated volunteer doesn't make you a celebrity overnight, it seems. People had actually begun disliking him more, he'd found- August, ugh, August had been a staunch supporter of Rufus throughout the whole selection process. He'd spread shitty rumours all around the academy about Al's personal life, furthering the general belief that everyone except the trainers seemed to believe- that Alcander was unhinged, he was mentally depraved, he was a _queer_. He could only hope that after he came back from the Games, he'd never see August or that clique ever again. He'd purge all the filth from his life- maybe he could even get Seneca sent to prison. But that was a stretch.

After he left the huge grounds, he didn't see anyone else who hated him wandering about. The air was warm and muggy since it was still summer, and like most things it made Al feel uncomfortable. He was tense at the thought of returning home, as usual. Keithia may have a loving and supporting family system supporting her and congratulating her for gaining the volunteer spot, but Al's predicament couldn't be more different.

As soon as he arrived at his house and entered he was assaulted by a garble of noises, assumedly from Kaius. He didn't even bother looking up to read what his adopted brother was saying- it was probably some derogatory slur or the like that Anastasia and Clara excused as "building his resilience". He just sighed and blocked it out, keeping the cold and disinterested expression as he passed his bratty sixteen-year-old brother and crossed the entrance hall to make his way upstairs. His adopted mothers were top of their year in the Academy, Clara being ditched after the last selection of two and Anastasia being beaten by the eventual volunteer in their match. Al was more of a pet project of theirs than a kid they saved benevolently, and even though he had gotten farther than either of his now rich and successful mothers, he still _wasn't enough_. He heard one of them shout up to him, probably something about respect and treating his little brother, his feisty, able-bodied, neurotypical brother right like he deserved. Kaius didn't deserve an ounce of his respect. Nobody did, in all honesty. He'd never been respected by Clara and Anastasia, not even after he'd come home last week with the news that he wouldn't disappoint them any longer as the rightful volunteer. All he'd gotten was a _"So, we haven't raised a completely useless cripple"_ and _"You better praise us for rearing you well in your interview, or we'll do everything we can to sabotage your chances."_ Al hated it, he hated them, he hated himself, and because of them, even his time in the Capitol would be filled with unnecessary stress and anxiety. It filled him with dread to even imagine it. He would lock himself away in his room, as usual, think alone about how he'd deal with the issue of his parents- no way was he gonna let Keithia and Markus in on his private issues- he and he alone would deal with it. Nobody else could be trusted, nobody but himself.

He had his head in his hands when there was a creek at the door- fifteen-year-old Isabela's head of black hair inching through the gap. Al glanced her way but ultimately ignored her. She'd always tried to comfort him, of course, she had, but comfort didn't exist in this home. Comfort didn't exist at the Academy, where Seneca and August and everyone else who judged him for being as unresponsive and cold as he was.

After he got the title of Victor, they'd all be proved wrong. He won't be the pathetic, miserable orphan anymore- he'll escape and walk among the ranks of legends, head held high, and he'll finally be able to take a break.

* * *

 **Eyyy it took me a long time to write this b/c I went to France for 4 days how wild is that? I'm so well travelled. Al's POV is a bit short, but I thought there was a fine place to leave it and like. All the POVs will be diff lengths anyway idk I'm still learning the ropes I hope ur not upset w me ajajajs**

 **As always, another CQ! _What's your_** _**opinion on this pair of characters? Which did you like better?**_

 **Thanks for reading! I'll see if I can get a schedule of 2 weeks for updates, tho I might be a bit late sometimes, sometimes might be early. I'm working on the tribute pages on the blog right now, might take a bit longer since I've got mock exams at school, but feel free to check out the Capitolites and Mentors on parallax-162 . weebly .com ! I'll be back next time with D3, which I'm pretty excited about! - Henry**


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